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Archive for the ‘Game’ Category

Not all sidewalk activists hawking material for the shitlib cause du jour are nuisances best avoided. Occasionally, a hot babe will thrust her ample pamphlets and bodacious donation sign-up list in my face. When I spot one of these sexy solicitors, I do what any woke-weary womanizer would do: flip the script and assume the sale.

CHIPPER GIRLTHING: “Hi! Would you like to help secure the existence of our people and a future for White children?…”

WANDERLUST WOMBCHIPPER: “This is an elaborate ruse you’ve set up just to flirt with me. There are easier ways to get my attention.”

***

CHIPPER GIRLTHING: “Hi! Have you heard about White Genocide?…..”

WANDERLUST WOMBCHIPPER: “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

CHIPPER GIRLTHING: “Huh? No no, I’m not asking you out….”

WANDERING WOMBCHIPPER: “Oh, well I figured you were since you came right up to me. You come on strong, has anyone told you that?”

etc.

Trust me, these girls haven’t heard one interesting word from any man since they started their job as a wacktivist cause du jour whore for UNIVERSAL MANDATED ABORTION NOW. When you speak to one of these girls as I have shown above, you will practically smell the pungent aroma of sex wafting from her flowering furrow.

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You can ramp up a woman’s ardor with a few simple “powerlust moves”. One that has never failed to generate hot hot heat beyond the usual steamy release is when I sidle up to my ladyhawke from behind, put my arms around her waist (one hand slithering to a shaded resting place in her underboob), and, as she begins to twist around to meet my intrusion, whisper in her ear “Ah ah, don’t turn around”.

Her head might swivel backward a little after that, revealing the corner of a lip-parted arousal, and I’ll reiterate, “Don’t look”. Now she’s stuck facing forward, maybe over the kitchen sink noticing tree leaves ripen in the summersun through the window, engulfed by my body while my patriarchy presses into her behind. I lift her dress, or unzip and yank down her pants, and explore like a White colonialist of old. All the time she is yielding to my loving molestation, her back is to me; she never locks eyes. This combination of male entitlement, commanding presence, and her sensual vulnerability is lethal to the female limbic system, dynamiting her dendritic fuses in a volcanic shower of molten gash-ash.

Male dominance is the female rationalization hamster killer. No woman can resist. No man should underestimate the allure of his controlled dominance to women. The Powerlust Moves are about projecting dominance through aesthetic, physicality, and word. Set the romantic scene, invade her personal space, and issue the command. The pussy has been waiting to submit for too long.

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The leftoid legacy media, salesmen, and pickup artists have something in common: they all use framing as a powerful rhetoric weapon to lock in friendlies, persuade fence-sitters, and demoralize belligerents.

Framing — that is, perception management — is a staple of the leftstream media. It’s the most useful rhetorical gambit the media has at its disposal for enforcing its Anti-White Man Narrative. And the media manlet journolisters use it all the time. Example (via):

Studies also show that although female politicians have a wide range of positions, they often are more compassionate, better at working across the aisle and more willing to compromise, qualities intricately bound in successful policymaking.

A big part of the lie is the framing. Could just as easily write: “Female politicians are more emotional, less principled, and more likely to sacrifice political concerns.” I guess that wouldn’t be “intricately bound” (?) (???) enough.

Almost always, the Leftoid media has to reframe from a more factual interpretation to a less factual DISinterpretation of the evidence at hand. This is because the modern Left’s moral pyramid is built on a foundation of Equalism Lies. Therefore, every story has to be twisted into a sophistic slander of actual events and actual data to fit their preconceived Narrative: Whites suck, and White Men suck the most.

This is why the media — staffed, keep in mind, almost entirely by race and sex denialist liberals — can plausibly claim to avoid outright lying in their agitprop copy; they aren’t presenting blatantly false info (although they do that too; see UVA rape hoax or Jayson Blair) so much as they’re reconfiguring and retconning real information into a photo negative of the truth.

The Wage Gap is a prime example. The leftist media frames it with the omnipresent implication that Dirty White Men are the evildoers preventing women from making more than 78 cents to The Man’s dollar, when an un-framed reporting of the Wage Gap would clearly and incontrovertibly lay the cause at the truth: that women prefer lower-paying occupations than do men, women work on average fewer hours, and women slow their career advancement with motherhood. And that under all these TRUEFACTS is the compelling ür-truth of biologically innate sex differences in psychology, temperament, and behavior.

But man o man would that kind of reporting BLOW equalist shitlib minds. And since the media is 99% equalist shitlib, that means a self-mindblowing. How many people do you know who voluntarily stomp their own egos without immense pressure from outside antagonists?

The leftoid media fuggernaut demonstrates the awesome power of framing to control perceptions and even trigger mass psychoses (“Trump is Hitler”). But we dedicated womanizers and practitioners of the Crimson Arts knew this all along; framing is just as powerful at controlling the perceptions of pretty girls and seducing them into bed.

A frame is a system of interpretation that an individual or group uses to understand a certain event/situation.

Frame is important in pickup, because it communicates the PUA’s mindset as well as the underlying psychology behind his words and actions. For example, Swinggcat advocates a “prizing” frame, whereby the PUA always assumes the girl is interested in him as the prize. In this frame, a chick can say, “I really like the tie”. The PUA can respond, “Thank you, slow down a little bit. At least buy me a drink before you hit on me like that.”

A funny example of re-framing is when Borat wears his famous swimsuit to the beach, and the reporter comments, “Borat, those trunks seem a little small for you”. Sasha Cohen pauses, and then promptly responds, “Ah… thank you!”. The reporter’s expression to contain a laugh thereafter was priceless.

[…]

“Framing”, [or frame control], in the context of media studies, sociology and psychology, refers to the social construction of a social phenomenon by mass media sources or specific political or social movements or organizations. It is an inevitable process of selective [ed: seductive!] influence over the individual’s perception.

In pickup, as with mass media, there are always certain levels of interpretation of a specific event that can be reframed based on frame control, and your emotions and conviction in your beliefs.

The leftoid media is engaged in a massive reframing of reality to seduce Americans into believing 2 + 2 = 5. They have been winning for 70 odd years, but finally — finally! — a woke wave of dissidents to the anti-White orthodoxy have begun appropriating the media’s Rhetoric psy ops and coupling it with Realtalk cogdis to succeed, for the first time in recent memory, in undermining and exposing the media’s information distortion field.

I doubt I’m going out on limb when I say that the rise of Game in the late 90s had a big impact on the nascent anti-globalism revolutionaries who would many years later help vault a billionaire playboy with a knack for reframing into the White House.

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Nonlinear Seduction

Vagnette #1:

A past girlfling back in town had spotted me and flounced over to say hello.

HER: “Heeeeey, [Lucifer’s Third Leg], it’s been a while.”

ME: “It has! Heeeeey back atcha.”

HER: “What’ve you been up to?”

ME: “Oh just doing my thing.”

HER: “Your thing? What thing is that?”

ME: “Ah you know, all the things. This and that. Mostly that. I prefer that over this.”

HER: “Hm, you’re still as silly as ever,” she said as her eyes glowed with event horizon gravitingle pull.

We talked more, and she departed with a smile and a promise to MEAT again.

***

Vagnette #2:

A ladyfriend and I were sidewalking when we noticed what possibly may have been a self-driving all-electric test vehicle parked at the curb.

HER: “Check out that car! Pretty cool huh?”

ME: “I dunno. Will it take me to paradise?”

HER: *shoulder punch followed by penis grab*

In the realm of seduction — which is any realm that a man is alone with a woman and he isn’t a sniveling beta orbiter enabling her emotional vampirism — logic and reason won’t work on women. Oh sure women can sufficiently mimic the cadences of logic and reason, and even summon a convincing simulacrum of interest in the worlds of logic and reason when circumstances demand, but it’s not what juices women’s genderpulp. What women want is nonlinearity. Unpredictability. Surprize bantzsex. Cleverness. Or even silliness.

Anything but what they EXPECT the typical beta boob to say to them.

Beta male conversations with attractive women are like the weather. Everyone talks about it, no one says anything interesting. “How about this weather we’re having?” “Yeah, it’s been so nice.” Weatherjive is a fine lube for polite social interaction (I’M NOT A DANGER I TALK ABOUT THE WEATHER) but it’s horrible for lubing sexual tension. The unexpected  — “WEATHER IS FOR PLEBS” — is undiluted snapper stimulant. When you knock a woman off her daily script, her vagina explodes like a CIA-sponsored Syrian barrel bomb.

Logic and reason create civilizations, but destroy vaginations. The evo sike dudes would say that the freewheeling, devil-may-ZFG, out-of-cleft-field, flirty tangents that demarcate charming jerkboys from boring betas are an evolved preference in women to help them discriminate in favor of men who would have the cognitive horsepower to gather ARE RESOURCES when the gathering is tough. Perhaps long ago, that nonlinearly seductive man was equally adept at conniving stuff from other men as he was at stuffing gines.

Game lesson: Don’t sweat your conversations with women. Let it fly. You might say something stupid occasionally, but at least you won’t be a bore. And the hottest chicks hate nothing more than a man who bores them.

Chicks HATE HATE HATE boring men.
Worse than they hate unemployed bums.
Worse than they hate pygmales.
Worse than they hate nümales.
Worse than they hate neomaxizimdweebmales.

Don’t be boring and predictable and you’ll discover women expectantly hanging on your next word. Follow-ups to opening lines become much easier, and convos flow much smoother, when the girl can’t call your next move.

Studiously avoid self-entrapment in the world of “point A-to-point B” sanity. This is the world of women you’re in now, so check your sanity at the door and climb on the ride that is wild.

CH Maxim #14: KEEP HER GUESSING, KEEP HER GEYSERING

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If you can’t handle getting rejected ten times successively by ten different girls, you aren’t ready for the Game.

It happened to me, once. Over three weeks, I tried and failed to close ten girls. Tough sledding, to be sure. But I stayed outside my head, and never allowed it to get to me (beyond a post-rough patch recollection of the numbers of girls involved while telling the tale to friends).

No womanizer who’s worth his colloquial designation would fold after ten successive rejections. Maybe he’d muse on his streak of bad luck, but he’d never question his desirability to women. That’s the kind of knee-jerk emotional spasm reserved for blubbery beta males riven with self-doubt after ONE rejection.

You’ll know you’ve achieved Rod Emperor status when failed pickups leave no more impression on your psyche than failed lottery tickets.

After that three-week twat trough, the fourth week shone its labial light upon yours unruly: three numbers, two makings of the love.

He persisted, and she submitted.

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The female shit test is a subconscious mate assessment algorithm to determine which men are worth a woman’s untethered sexuality. There isn’t an equivalent intrinsic* male version because men assess women’s mate value with a split second glance at her face and body and yoga pant-delineated camel toe. For men, verbal tests of a woman’s grace under pressure aren’t necessary to filter YOLO chicks from HELLNO chicks. Women DO need limbic access to shit tests, though, because they evaluate men’s SMV using a holistic mental template of their ideal man that includes social status, dominance, confidence, looks, resource acquisition potential, and perhaps most importantly, personality, and most of these beguiling male traits aren’t easily discernible by women in a few seconds’ of social interaction.

*There is an extrinsically acquired male shit test, which could collectively be called “Game” as its purpose is to challenge a woman to “show what else she’s got besides her looks”.

Female shit tests generally fall into three categories: The dominance shit test for male toughness, the compliance shit test for male dignity, and the reproductive fitness shit test for male charisma.

Examples of the three types of female shit tests:

Dominance Test

“You’re not in my league.”

Compliance Test

“Buy me a drink.”

Fitness Test

“I bet you’re a player.”

All these shit tests routinely nuke beta males’ chances with women, because inexperienced or self-doubting men either don’t know how to answer them effectively, or they don’t have the bantz balls to give women the rhetorical jackhammering the fairer sex so strongly and secretly desires as prologue to clamping log.

Related to the topic of this post, a reader (Ron B) had a Game question about how to reply to a girl who unloaded a shit test on him in text. (Regrettably, I was not immediately available to help this man, because I would have given him the good advice he needed but failed to execute).

Text from girl (who was competing in a tournament this weekend):

“So you’re not gonna ask me how I did?”

This is an obvious shit test, but I’m struggling with the reply. Any ideas?

This is a Compliance Shit Test with an element of Fitness Shit Testing thrown in for extra credit. Girls don’t shit test in this way unless they already like the man and need additional reassurance that he’s worth pursuing. There’s a hint of insecurity in the shit test, but don’t be fooled; you still need to nuke it from orbit. Female displays of insecurity are often traps to lure less savvy men into supplicating postures of tingle-killing courtliness.

CH Maxim #46: A good Rule of Manhood is that for every three Blurts of Insecurity from a girl, one is sincere. Call it the 2/3rds Female Affectation Ratio.

Ron B correctly identified the DIK ASSESSMENT PAIN BOX he was about to stumble into, but unfortunately the reply he chose was the weaker of his many options.

Her:
So you’re not gonna ask how I did?
Me:
huh?
Her:
In the competition 😂
Me:
Oh yeah how’d that go?
Her:
Pretty well the whole team got 2nd in the nation overall
Me:
2nd in the nation, 1st in my heart. GO [team name]!
Her:
Wow didn’t realize you were so enthusiastic about figure skating

Now what?

If “huh?” was my reply, I wouldn’t have used the question mark. Just “huh”. It’s more ambiguous and less apt to make the girl wonder if I’m a dolt. (Really bitchy BPD chicks will respond to “huh?” with some nasty “r u playing dumb?” remark, so be prepared ahead of time for that possibility.) The insufficiency of “huh?” is evident in the text path that Ron forced himself to follow afterwards, when he wound up complying with her shit test anyhow. Personally, I would have sent her a trophy emoji, in the fashion of Birthday Cat, which has the power to lead to all sorts of fruitful convo threads that heighten sexual tension rather than release it. You could even play it off like you were thinking of some entirely different competition than the one she actually participated in: “Wait, we aren’t talking about winning a pole dancing event?”.

Ron B continues,

“Huh?” might be the better option.

But what about: “It’s nice when a girl texts first once in a while :)” Reframes the convo to my frame, makes her look the chaser.

Or do you think that sounds too beta?

BETA. Don’t do it. Step back from the pussyhat ledge. When a girl gets that line, she’ll think, “I guess he has to text girls first all the time. LA-HOOZER.” Better: “Someone needs attention. Sigh, my burden is never light.”

Commenter hans has a really good reply for Ron B:

“You better be a winner, girl!”

Though I may not be the best advisor right now.
I´m in an utter “take no shit” mood lately, especially towards wymminz.

Don’t worry, hans. Chicks dig men who take no shit, utterly. I like this reply because it works on a deeper, almost NLP-ish subliminal level. The girl hears two meanings: did she win her competition, and is she a winnergirl who can keep the interest of this stones bold man?

Back to Ron B, who gives us the full text exchange,

Her:
So you’re not gonna ask how I did?
Me:
huh?
Her:
In the competition 😂
Me:
Oh yeah how’d that go?
Her:
Pretty well the whole team got 2nd in the nation overall
Me:
2nd in the nation, 1st in my heart. GO HENS!
Her:
Wow didn’t realize you were so enthusiastic about figure skating
Me:
Are you back at [our mutual college] yet?
Her:
No I get back tomorrow at like 7pm
Me:
Oh so you can see me Tuesday night
Her:
Maybe 😏 I’ll think about it
Me:
Don’t think too much

Ok, so, do I wait for her to reach out to me Tuesday? Or will I reinitiate?
Thanks everyone, for the advice. t. college game newbie

The girl’s sarcastic “didn’t realize you were so enthusiastic about figure skating” is of course another shit test, of the Fitness Probing variety. One tried-and-true counter-maneuver to the shit test is to Ignore&Plow, which Ron B did here. We’ll have to see if it was effective because the girl still feels it necessary to leave the impression she’s mulling her options/dragging her feet (“maybe..i’ll think about it”). Again, while Ignore&Plow works more often than not, it’s almost always better to banter with the heartlight of a thousand ZFG red giant balls and remind the girl that she’s in the company of a charming mofo. So, for instance, I would have replied to that figure skating quip with an equally sarcastic retort like, “Love it. A perfectly executed Triple Sow Cow brings me to tears. I’m having a hot flash just thinking about it.”

All of which brings us to the meat n’ Bartholin’s of this post: commenter Vanamee’s excellent crib sheet of all-purpose shit test replies which he/she took the time to compile from the CH Tomes of Infinite Knowledge of Love and Women, and from contributing commenters.

Catch-all replies compiled from rosy, capitan ragedy, mr hearts, the peanut gallery et moi

– Nah
– I don’t care
– It’s complicated
– No, I don’t want to get you pregnant
– Look at you, Nancy Drew
– Tell me more
– Don’t flatter yourself
– What’s it to you?
– Says you
– This and that
– Here and there
– It’s a long story
– Oh geez. Here we go again
– Damn straight
– Ghey
– Lame
– Talk a big game. Rarely as good as advertised
– Tough
– Too bad.
– Tell me I’m wrong
– Little spoons don’t ask big questions [ed: or, “…don’t make the rules”]
– I know
– Thanks
– Naturally
– Sure you/we can
– Askn for it

the less logical or linear the reply, the better

Succinctly put. I’d add a few more nonlinear slicked quim-shivs to that list:

  • Birthday Cat emoji
  • I’m a stone cold killer who loves to spoon
  • bring da movies
  • who bitch this is? (choose your timing wisely)
  • low energy
  • #FakeHate (use this on sassy girls giving you over-the-top grief)
  • Swayback emoji
  • E for effort

And from the all-time number one most-read post at the Chateau:

  • tits or gtfo

Happy hunting, and don’t forget to practice Safe Seduction (out of her parents’ sight).

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A Jerkboy Opener

Do you struggle to find the right words to say when you approach a woman with engorged love in your heart? Commenter plumpjack stumbled on a line that I think would work well as an opener (or post-opener segue) in all sorts of contexts — offline, online, and between the lines.

“I’m a cold-blooded killer who likes to spoon.”

The line is effective whether you smirk it off with a knowing twinkle in your eye, or you deadpan it and keep her guessing…and geysering. You can go in any direction no matter how she replies.

HER: really? so you’re a softie on the inside?

BEETLEJUICE’S BASED STICKMAN: for you.

Have fun with this. The true value of the line is how it will reorient your electric ham along a less beta, more alpha axis of insolence. The very act of saying this line, and owning it for fun and profit, will work wonders on your self-conception, imbuing you with the same feeling that professional womanizers enjoy every time they go out and talk to women. And that feeling’s name is COCKY JERKBOY ENTITLEMENT. (chicks dig it)

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